Finally, with a graceful step, she approaches our table, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. ‘Hello, Xander. Will you be ordering the usual?’ she asks, her voice carrying a melodic tone.
Xander nods and replies, ‘Yes, please, Amora.’
Amora’s attention shifts to us, the newcomers, her smile widening with genuine warmth. ‘I’ve never seen any of you here before. Welcome,’ she says, her words like a gentle embrace. Curiosity sparkles in her eyes as she leans closer. ‘How do you know Xander?’ she inquires.
Xander eagerly jumps in, filling the air with his enthusiasm. ‘I’m escorting these three witches on their travels. They’ve spent many years at their coven, and much has changed since they last ventured beyond its borders.’
Amora’s smile widens further as if a weight has been lifted. ‘Oh, I see,’ she murmurs. ‘And what might you ladies like to order?’ Her slender hand glides gracefully over a blank piece of parchment resting on the table, casting a spell of light. The parchment comes alive, displaying a mesmerising hologram of irresistible meals.
Imogen’s eyes light up, and her voice fills with anticipation. ‘I’ll have the silverscorch eel soup, please,’ she requests, her smile radiant.
My gaze sweeps across the holographic display, landing on a plate adorned with various sizzling, cooked meats. ‘This looks intriguing,’ I exclaim, pointing to the mouth-watering dish, my excitement evident.
Amora’s eyes meet mine, amusement dancing in her gaze. ‘The meaton meal, it is,’ she declares with a playful grin.
I lean in slightly, a mischievous glint in my eye. ‘I like my meat as raw as possible,’ I confess, my words carrying a hint of daring.
Amora raises an elegant eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. ‘Only werewolves would eat this kind of meat raw,’ she muses.
A playful smirk tugs at my lips. ‘Well, I don’t want it still walking and mooing. Just sear it a little,’ I say, my voice filled with wicked delight.
Amora chuckles softly, clearly entertained by my remark. ‘Mooing? What is mooing?’ she asks, her curiosity shining through.
Xander shoots his eyes at me sternly, quickly changing the topic to rescue me from further explanation. ‘Janie, what would you like?’ he interjects, his voice gentle and soothing.
Janie’s sweet voice chimes in, her eyes sparkling with innocence. ‘I’ll have this one, please,’ she says, pointing to a colourful stir-fry dish filled with an array of vegetables we’ve never encountered before. Among the vibrant mix, mini yellow vegetables resembling crescent moons and green vegetables that twist like curly pigtails catch our attention. Tender morsels of light-coloured meat are delicately nestled within.
‘Mystic vegetails with finbird meat, it is,’ Amora announces. She dances toward the kitchen with a graceful sway, where the skilled witches work their culinary magic.
As the savoury aromas waft through the air, our tantalising meals soon arrive, each dish a work of culinary art crafted by the skilled witches in the kitchen of the Whimsywick Tavern. The silverscorch eel soup delights Imogen’s taste buds, its rich flavours dancing upon her palate while I savour the seared meats of the meaton meal, each bite bursting with succulence and a hint of enchantment.
As we indulge in our meals, laughter and lively conversation fill the air, accompanied by the harmonious notes of merry tunes performed by the minstrel who has entered the tavern.
’Beneath the moonlit sky,
In the graveyard, they lie,
Wraiths waiting for the night,
To wreak havoc through the night.
Beware the wraith’s wrath,
For their appetite is vast.
They’ll enter you like a thief,
And consume you like a wreath,
Leaving nothing in their wake,
But bones, and dust, and ache.
So, keep your windows locked,
And your doors shut tight,
Beware the wraith’s wrath,
As it could be your last night.’
Everyone claps, and he begins the next song.
’In the Misty Marshlands, so vast and wild,
Where darkness creeps, and shadows hide,
There blooms a flower, fair and bright,
The Gloaming Lotus, a guiding light.
But those who seek to cross the way,
Must heed the Lotus, never stray.
Its glow reveals the hidden way,
Shying deadly creatures away.’
As the melodies of laughter and clinking glasses continue to fill the air, Xander’s gaze meets ours. ‘I will secure two chambers for us to rest the night. It won’t take us long to get to Moonshade Forest from here in the morning,’ he says and approaches the old tavern keeper, placing coins in his hands.
I wasn’t sure what type of creature the tavernkeeper was until he smiled, bearing his fangs in satisfaction. The vampire nods and points to the stairs.
Imogen and I follow Janie and Xander’s lead, drawn by the beckoning glow of the lanterns that line the stairs. The soft light dances on the wooden walls, casting ethereal shadows.
As we ascend the stairs, the minstrel strums his lute again, his voice strong and grand. My heart thumps heavier with each word he sings, bringing my body to a halt.
’Oh, Warrick, the rogue alpha, once wild and free,
Ensnared in the witching woods for all eternity.
A curse of matelessness, by Gretchen’s wicked hand,
Leaves him a feral beast feared throughout the land.
But as the moon wanes and stars fade from the sky,
He awakens to the truth with a heavy sigh.
For in his beastly form, cursed by Gretchen’s hand,
He’s condemned to roam alone in the darkened woodland.’
Everyone in the tavern joins in, and the words are sung twice and end in boastful cheers. With my heart thumping, I race up the stairs and reach the doors adorned with intricate carvings. Imogen follows behind, entering the same room as Xander and Janie enter their room.
The soft hues of moonlight filter through the window, casting a gentle glow upon the inviting beds. We settle into them, our weary bodies sinking into the plush comfort, and our minds drifting towards dreams yet to be dreamt as I dolefully ponder over the song that has sent my heart into a state of despair.